


you can see it with the lights out

by rumpledlinen



Category: One Direction (Band), Radio 1 RPF
Genre: F/F, Fluff, Genderswap, Valentine's Day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-31
Updated: 2014-10-31
Packaged: 2018-02-23 08:04:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2540453
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rumpledlinen/pseuds/rumpledlinen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s not that she doesn’t <i>want</i> to date Nick; Lord knows Nick’s the fittest girl Harry’s ever seen (except Beyonce, maybe, but Harry’s never drunkenly kissed her, so). She’s made peace with the fact that Nick’s not into her: Harry knows Nick’s attracted to her, but Harry’s not going to say anything, not when NIck’s looking to settle down, start a family. (<i>Me, settle down with me,</i> Harry’s wanted to say on a million and one occasions but it sounds awfully, horribly close to settle <i>for</i> me and she’d never, ever want to push Nick into something like that.) </p><p> </p><p>(or: Harry enters the Radio One "Win a Date With Nick" contest.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	you can see it with the lights out

**Author's Note:**

  * For [delightfulalot](https://archiveofourown.org/users/delightfulalot/gifts).



> notes: for swamiface. :) :) :) this is a combination of your two prompts, sort of: this is always-a-girl nick and harry, and valentine’s day 2014 fic. i think i fudged details of the actual contest, but whatever. it’s ridiculously fluffy. i hope you like it! :)
> 
> title from taylor swift's "you are in love" because these marrieds 
> 
> disclaimer: this is so incredibly untrue

In all honesty, she enters on a whim.

It’s not that she doesn’t _want_ to date Nick; Lord knows Nick’s the fittest girl Harry’s ever seen (except Beyonce, maybe, but Harry’s never drunkenly kissed her, so). She’s made peace with the fact that Nick’s not into her: Harry knows Nick’s _attracted_ to her, but Harry’s not going to say anything, not when NIck’s looking to settle down, start a family. ( _Me, settle down with me,_ Harry’s wanted to say on a million and one occasions but it sounds awfully, horribly close to settle _for_ me and she’d never, ever want to push Nick into something like that.) 

She’s listening to Nick’s show from yesterday. Nick’s giggling, and she sounds so happy, God. Harry misses her, terribly, sitting in her mum’s house. Downstairs, she can hear Gemma and her mum talking about something, their laughs trickling upstairs. 

She puts her other earbud in and when Nick starts cracking up at some of the texts she’s getting, Harry opens the little _Enter Here!_ form. She puts her name as _Henry Stars_. God, it’s a horribly old joke between the two of them. She’s pretty sure Nick doesn’t even remember. 

She hits enter and stands up, packing back and forth before going downstairs. 

“What would you like for dinner?” her mum asks as Gemma wraps her arms around her, grumbling.

“I’m older,” she says, pouting. “I should be taller, what the fuck’s up with you?”

“Gem,” her mum warns.

Gemma rolls her eyes.

In hanging out with them, she almost forgets about the contest.

Almost, of course, because she can’t stop thinking about how lonely Nick had sounded, under all the teasing, and she can’t help thinking _I might make her happy_. She helps make dinner, though, and Gem’s stories about uni and her mum’s stories about home distract her a little bit.

Later, she goes for a walk with Gems. She gets snow in her hair and in her eyes, and she buries her face in a scarf she stole from Nick.

“I’m in love with her,” she admits, not looking over at her. “Nick, I mean,” because it’s not like she expects her to know.

Gemma puts her arm around Harry’s waist, kissing the side of her head. “And she’s not?”

“Dunno,” Harry says. “Haven’t asked.” _She’s my best friend_ , she doesn’t say, because it’s not true; that’s Louis, probably, or the rest of the band. 

Nick’s something, though. (Everything.)

“Maybe you should,” she says, so gently. 

Harry shrugs, wrapping her arms around her middle, jacket tighter around her.

Gemma sighs and doesn’t say anything. She keeps her arm around Harry’s middle as they walk through the town, feet crunching in the snow. 

Harry doesn’t tell her about entering the contest. She doesn’t know herself why she’d tried; it’s not as though Nick’s going to finally realize she wants to be with Harry just because there’ll be candles and roses. 

Maybe, though, maybe Harry can tell her. 

*

She gets two emails that night.

The first is formal: 

_Henry:_

_We here at Radio One are pleased to inform you that you have one a Valentine’s Day date with our very own Breakfast Show host, Nick Grimshaw! The location will be set by us. Please respond with your address and we will arrange a car to pick you up at 8._

_Happy Valentine’s,_

_BBC Radio One_

And then another:

_Harry:_

_I assume this is you, with how much Nick’s banged on about that stupid story. Clever. I didn’t tell Nick who won, wasn’t going to anyway, but certainly not now. We can have it someplace more private, if you like, and if you give me a more private place than your house I’ll have the car sent there. Let me know._

_Yours,  
Matt_

She laughs a little bit, feeling less silly now. At least Finchy’d remembered that stupid story--and maybe Nick would, too. 

She bites her lip, staring at the screen. It’s now or never, she reasons, time to decide how she’s going to spin this. Nick’d meant it as a laugh, certainly, but it can still be funny with Harry there, she’s sure. The papers are gonna have a field day, she reasons. _Gal Pals Nick Grimshaw and Harry Styles Hang Out!_ She can hear the derisive _neither of them could find a romantic partner_ she’s sure is gonna fill the body of the articles now. 

She’s never minded Harry there, at the least. Even when it’s all of Nick’s cool friends she’s liked to have Harry there, against her side. 

She nods, steeling herself. She won’t say anything until after. She’s not going to try to force Nick into anything at all, and doing it in public would--well. Wouldn’t be forcing, necessarily, but Nick might take it that way.

If anything happens, Harry wants to be sure it’s what Nick wants. No pressure.

She types out a quick reply to Matt and shuts her computer, vibrating with energy.

She rolls off her bed, going through her closet to find something to wear. (It’s weird, she thinks. Half her clothes are or were Nick’s. She’s not sure how the ownership works. Co-ownership, or something.)

*

She texts Louis about it at one in the morning when she can’t sleep. She’s half-expecting him to be asleep, but the reply comes almost instantly

 _you know i hate her,_ comes the reply, _but i’m a hundred percent sure no one can resist you, babe._

It’s silly, and she knows Louis has to say that, but it comforts her. She doesn’t fall asleep quickly, but her heart does calm down.

 _It’s not real_ , she tells herself, holding her phone and staring at the wall. _It’s just a laugh. It can be just a laugh. Nick won’t hate you_.

She doesn’t quite believe it, but so long as she keeps repeating it, she reasons, it’ll sink in.

*

She has the car pick her up from a park near her house. She’s waiting in the car with Gems, vibrating. She’d settled on a tight dress Taylor always told her she looked good in, with just a little bit of lipstick and flats. (Nick likes to feel tall. It’s kind of adorable.)

Gemma grabs her hand, lacing their fingers together. “It’s gonna be okay.”

“I don’t want to fuck up her Valentine’s. I mean, what if she’s expecting--something else?” she asks. 

“I mean, I doubt she’ll be expecting you,” Gemma says as she takes a sip of tea, “but she won’t be upset about it. She loves you, yeah?”

“I know.”

“She’s thrilled when you go to her house. Even if it doesn’t work out, you’ve always got that, yeah?”

Harry nods, jerky. “I know,” she says again. She’s never had to put herself on the line like this. She doesn’t get how people do that; Caroline was the closest she’d ever come, and she knew she could play that off as a joke if she had to.

(Luckily, she hadn’t had to. God, Cazza was great.)

A limo--god, Harry thinks, rolling her eyes--pulls up and she undoes her seatbelt, heart racing. “I look all right?”

Gemma nods, kissing her forehead. “Amazing, love.”

Harry smiles in thanks and gets out of the car, biting her lip hard. The driver gets out and opens the door, and she slides inside.

Nick’s looking at her phone, a slight frown on her face. “Henry, is it?” she asks, and looks up. “I-- _Harry_!” Her voice goes from forced to pleased in that one word.

Harry laughs, holding her arms out for a hug. “Hiya, Grim.”

“What the hell?” Nick asks, laughter in her voice as she wraps Harry in a great big hug. “You didn’t say anything, you arse.”

She shrugs. “It was a last-minute thing. And Finchy didn’t want to tell you.”

She wrinkles her nose. “Arsehole.”

Harry grins, but she’s still a little worried. “So you’re not--mad?”

Nick frowns. “Why’d I be mad, love?” she asks gently. The car starts moving, and she holds Harry close to her, other hand on her cheek. 

“Dunno. Thought you wanted a real date.”

“Well, I thought it was a lad, at first, so this is infinitely better.” She keeps smiling, biting her lip. “You’re much prettier than anyone named Henry could be.”

Harry turns pink. If this were anyone else, she’d tilt her head up and ask for a kiss, soft, but the car lurches and she remembers. She turns away, resting her head on Nick’s shoulder.

Nick’s trembling a little bit, and Harry puts a hand on her thigh. And--oh, Nick’s wearing a dress, too, and heels by the look of it. 

“Your legs look amazing,” Harry says before she can stop herself. It’s nothing she hasn’t said before, anyway.

Nick huffs a laugh, kissing the top of Harry’s head. “Thanks, love.”

Harry smiles, closing her eyes. Maybe she doesn’t have to wait until after the date. “So,” she starts, at the same time Nick starts talking and she loses her nerve. “G’head,” she says, soft. 

“You sure?” Nick asks.

Harry nods, not looking up.

“I was gonna say, you should spend the night at mine,” Nick says. There’s something in her voice Harry can’t place. “Haven’t seen you in ages.”

“I was at yours two weeks ago,” she teases. 

Nick shrugs, and she’s shaking again; Harry can feel it. 

She sits up to look at her properly, frowning. “I’ll stay,” she says. “Is--are you all right?”

“Yeah,” Nick says, not convincingly at all. “Just. Miss you, yeah?”

Harry nods, slowly. 

“I mean it.” Nick rolls her eyes as they pull up to the restaurant. “So. This is less delicious, but also less flashy than we were originally gonna go for. Okay?” She turns around, like Harry’s actually going to complain.

She rolls her eyes, pushing at her. “Get out, I’m starved.”

Nick giggles, reaching behind her for Harry’s hand. She looks her up and down, grinning. “You wore flats.”

She feels herself turn pink again, not making eye contact. “Yeah,” she says, hiding a smile. 

“All right, love.” Nick kisses the side of her head. “Happy Valentine’s.”

“Yeah.” Harry keeps hold of her hand, letting Nick pull her inside. It’s dark and quiet and private. There are candles and fucking rose petals on the tables.

Nick clears her throat. “It’s, er. Valentine’s,” she says with a shrug.

“Romantic,” Harry agrees, nodding. She lets Nick talk to the waiter, and he leads them back to their table.

Nick pulls her chair out for her, and Harry’s stomach flips. God, she’s so gone for her.

Nick sits down, and she leans in. Harry’s heart starts to race; Nick looks like she’s going to say something. After a long, long minute, though, Nick just says, “We should get wine. Special occasion, and all.”

“Wine doesn’t make it special,” Harry says, looking up from her menu. She grins. “Unless it’s fancy wine.”

“Or vodka later,” Nick offers.

“Still not special,” Harry says, grinning. “We do that every time I come over.”

Nick bites her lip. “I think,” she starts. 

The waiter comes over. Nick frowns, looking down at her lap, and doesn’t say anything.

Harry wants to ask, but Nick looks so sad, and the waiter looks so expectant. “Um,” she starts, and orders a bottle of wine. The waiter nods, walking away. “You think what?” Harry asks, leaning forward. She kicks Nick’s shin, gently. 

Nick looks up at her, looking a little raw, vulnerable. She shakes her head. 

Slowly, slowly, a little bit of hope begins to go through Harry. She clears her throat, looking back at her menu. “What’re you getting?” she asks. 

“Can’t decide,” Nick says, voice back to its usual timbre. “Alfredo or ravioli.”

Harry laughs. “Could just get the two and split them. Like usual.”

“Thought you wanted tonight to be special,” Nick says, but she’s smiling. 

Harry shrugs. “Can still be.”

“Yeah?” Nick leans forward, and she reaches out for Harry’s hand, almost tentative.

It’s weird, Harry thinks, how awkward this all feels--or not awkward, but careful. As though they’ve not been in constant contact the past two years, as though Harry’s not fallen asleep with her mouth pressed against Nick’s shoulder a thousand times, Nick throwing her legs over Harry’s lap when they’re watching Bake-Off. 

And it’s not just her, Harry thinks, looking up at Nick as she laces their fingers together. Nick looks terrified. 

It hits her, then, that maybe she’s read it all wrong--and she wants to leave, go back to Nick’s and see if she’ll kiss her now that they’re both sober--

But Nick’s pulling back as the waiter walks up and Harry frowns, leaning back in her chair.

Nick orders this time, all smiles, and she sends the waiter a wink, grinning.

Harry’s frown deepens as she takes a sip of wine, staring at her.

“What?” Nick asks, looking at her. 

She shakes her head. It’s not fair, she reasons as she finishes the glass, to get mad or jealous or whatever. Especially because the waiter’s--well, not a girl. She doesn’t have any right to be jealous.

Nick bites her lip as she looks at her phone, frowning, and Christ. Harry wants to kiss her. 

“Who’s that?” she asks, soft. 

“Matt,” Nick says, wrinkling her nose. “Just wanted to make sure there were no problems.”

Harry smiles. “He’s a good guy.”

“Still mad he didn’t tell me,” Nick says, almost offhand.

“Why?” Harry asks. “I mean. He said you wouldn’t, like, mind.”

“What?” Nick snorts. “No, Jesus, I’m not mad. Just. Might’ve tried a little harder, if I knew I had someone to impress.” She leans forward, chin in her hand, grinning at Harry. 

Harry presses her lips together to keep from smiling too wide. “I think you look perfectly adequate,” she says in as neutral a voice she can manage. (It’s not very neutral. She’s never been good at hiding her emotions and Nick looks fantastic.)

Nick grins. “Yeah? You, too, Henry,” she teases. 

Harry snorts. “I thought it’d be funny! Finchy agreed, at least.”

“I’m just surprised it wasn’t something to do with bananas,” Nick tells her, pouring the both of them another glass of wine.

“Please. I’m much more refined than that. Maybe not if I had a dick,” she muses. “Dunno if I’d be able to stop myself.”

“I’m glad you don’t have a dick,” Nick says in a fond voice, and then she goes pink. “I mean. Don’t know if I could take so many terrible jokes.”

Harry grins. 

Their food comes and Harry’s eyes widen. “Oh, god, I’m starved,” she says again. “Haven’t eaten all day.”

“Why not?”

“Nervous,” Harry answers without thinking. She wants to correct herself, but she doesn’t; maybe dancing around the topic isn’t the best idea.

Nick opens and closes her mouth a few times. “Harry,” she says, voice almost strained. “Do you. Let’s say.” She pauses. 

Harry reaches out for her hand, rubbing her thumb across the knuckles. 

“Do you think.” Nick still won’t look at her. “Do you think we could maybe, sometimes, kiss when we aren’t drunk?”

Harry grins. It’s not as romantic as she might have liked, but--”Yeah, definitely,” she says, still smiling. 

“No, I mean--like.” Nick frowns at her like there’s something Harry’s not understanding. “Like. Not in a friendly, _oh, I kiss everyone_ way.”

“I know,” Harry says, and she bites her lip. This time, she doesn’t miss the way Nick’s eyes go to her mouth. “I don’t think I’ve ever kissed you in a friendly way.”

Nick swallows visibly. “Yeah?”

Harry nods. 

“So, this, then.” Nick shakes her head. “I was gonna wait, but Jesus.” She pushes her plate aside a little bit. “This is--”

“I was hoping it would be a date, yeah,” Harry says. “Thought, you know, no better time. Or place.” She nods at the candles. 

Nick smiles so wide it looks like it hurts. “All right,” she says, and she rubs a hand over her mouth. “Shit.”

Harry grins.

“So, then--at my place.” She looks a little awkward.

Harry shrugs as primly as she can manage. “Whatever you want,” she says, voice low. 

Nick closes her eyes. “That’s--Jesus, you can’t say things like that in public.”

“Could take me to the bathroom,” Harry offers, shrugging.

“ _No_ ,” Nick says, but it sounds like it’s hard to say. “Damn it, Haz, I’m trying to be romantic.”

“You’re doing a bang-up job,” Harry reassures her. “Really. I feel very seduced.”

Nick kicks her under the table.

Harry winks over another glass of wine. 

*

In the car on the way back, Harry laces her fingers with Nick’s and kisses her knuckles again, letting her lips linger. She’s still staring at Nick’s legs, and God, she might be able to--

“You okay?” Nick asks, in her ear.

Harry nods. 

“What’re you thinking about?”

Harry thinks about it for all of two seconds before she leans up and whispers, right in Nick’s ear, “Thinking about getting you off with just my tongue.”

Nick goes still, and Harry rests her other hand on Nick’s thigh, rubbing her thumb over the skin, slow. 

“Stop that, God,” Nick breathes. Harry would be worried she’d gone too far, but she can feel the way Nick’s shifting, just a little.

They pull up to the flat, and Nick pulls Harry out of the car, barely saying a goodbye to the driver. 

They’re barely in the door when Nick kisses her, pressing her up against the wall right by it. “Fuck, Haz,” she whispers. “You are _such_ a tease.”

Harry grins, kissing her back, pulling her flush against her. “Not teasing if I’m gonna follow through.”

Nick shakes her head and tugs at the bottom of Harry’s dress. “Off, off, God,” she manages. 

Harry laughs, letting her pull it off. She’s sure her hair gets messed up in the process, but whatever. 

Nick stares at her, eyes wide. 

“Come on,” Harry says, trying to get Nick’s dress off too. “You’ve seen me naked a hundred times, come on.” She’s still got her knickers on, even. 

“Not like this,” Nick says, hands on her waist. “Fuck.” She kisses Harry again, tugging at her lower lip.

Harry moans. “Let me take your dress off,” she whispers. 

Nick rolls her eyes and does, tossing it aside and stepping out of her heels. 

Harry pushes her back until she’s sitting on the couch and straddles her, biting her lip. “Happy Valentine’s Day,” she says, because Nick’s trembling a little bit.

“Fuck you,” Nick laughs, tugging her down for another rough kiss.

Harry moans into her mouth, and makes good on her promise. 

*

Harry wakes up to Nick’s alarm with a hand on Nick’s waist and a mouthful of hair. She groans, and then she remembers, sitting up properly. “Oh,” she says, smiling. She kisses Nick’s head. 

Nick stirs. “Shh, it’s sleep time.”

“Think it’s time for you to go to work, actually,” Harry says mildly around a yawn.

“Oh, fuck.” Nick sits up, groaning. “You--stay here, okay? I’ll be back soon. Promise.” She kisses Harry, hard, with a hand on her cheek.

“Mmhm,” Harry says, flopping back on the bed. “Will do. Won’t move at all.”

“Good.” Nick pauses in the middle of getting dressed. “Christ,” she says, looking Harry up and down. She shakes her head. “Fucking _Fincham_.”

“Please don’t,” Harry says, giggling. “Would rather you not fuck anyone but me, if it’s all the same.”

Nick smiles, crawling back over the bed to kiss her. “Promise.”

“I’ll make you breakfast,” Harry says around a yawn. “If you wake me up and then give me an hour or so.” She grins, wide, and she can see the way Nick’s looking at her, like she’s beautiful and wonderful.

( _Maybe it’s not settling_ , she thinks idly, and she wonders if Nick’s thinking the same things.)

Nick shrugs and kisses her one more time, so gentle Harry’s sure she can feel her trembling. “Maybe I’ll bring you back food.”

It’s a lie and they both know it; Nick hasn’t ever brought her breakfast, hangover or no, and now’s no different. It makes Harry’s heart swell to hear it anyway, though. 

“If you text me,” Nick says, “I will,” and it comes out quiet, like a promise. 

Harry shivers a little bit and pulls the duvet around her, sitting up and running a hand through her hair. “Okay,” she murmurs, and there’s a weight in her chest she can’t explain. 

Nick kisses her forehead and pulls back, stepping into a pair of flats. 

It’s all so, so domestic and quiet and--all right, maybe she can explain the way her heart feels like it’s going to beat out of her chest. 

Nick leaves and she flops back, determined to get a good night’s sleep, but she’s restless. Puppy jumps on top of her, nosing at her hand, and she laughs, getting up to let her out. She yanks on one of Nick’s old shirts, a flannel that’s amazingly warm, and yawns as she pads into the kitchen. She flicks on the radio; Nick’s chattering about something over the ending notes of _Still Into You_ , a laugh laugh in her voice. 

“I’m never, ever getting over that record,” she’s insisting as Harry fills up the kettle, grinning wide. She’s alone, she can be as much of an idiot as she wants. “It’s wonderful.”

“So how’d your date go last night?” Matt laughs, and it’s clear he’s trying not to gloat. _Arse_ , Harry can almost hear Nick say. 

“Mmm, they were wonderful,” Nick says dryly. “Had a great time.”

Harry smiles over her mug, hopped up on the counter. Maybe she will make breakfast. She’s awake enough for it. Outside, Puppy barks and she rolls her eyes, letting her back in. 

Puppy runs in circles around her legs and Harry giggles, lying down on the floor with her nose pressed against her fur. “You’re lovely,” she tells her, very seriously. It’s important for every being to have good self-esteem. 

She tunes back into the radio just in time to hear Matt ask--“Would you go out with ‘em again?” 

“In a heartbeat,” Nick says, and she’s clearly trying to make it as dramatic as possible but there’s still fondness in her voice. 

“Sounds like it’s love.”

Nick pauses for all of a second. “Must be,” and Harry laughs, biting her lip, heart racing. She’s pretty sure Nick knows she listens, wouldn’t say that unless she meant it.

She hopes, at least. 

“What do you think, Puppy?” she asks. 

Puppy doesn’t answer, just licks her arm. 

“You know, you’re a shit romantic counselor,” she tells her. 

Puppy, once again, doesn’t answer. 

“I take back what I said about you being lovely.” She manages to keep a cross face until Puppy whimpers, small. “Never mind, never mind,” she says, and chooses not to think about what it says about her that she’s talking to a dog. 

She pulls out her phone to send a text.

_love you, too, nick. xx_

She gets back about a million emojis, and they’re all nonsensical, but Harry gets the meaning.

It’s a long while of her lying on the floor before she gets up, pulling out the carton of eggs and loaf of bread Nick keeps in the fridge just for her (Harry knows, because she’d surprised her with a visit once and Nick’s fridge was absolutely empty). 

When Nick gets back, she decides, they can have the conversation, the one Harry’s been too nervous to have. “She loves me,” she tells Puppy, dropping her a piece of a strawberry she’s cut up. Puppy sniffs at it but doesn’t do anything but nudge it with her nose. Harry rolls her eyes. “Glad to know you approve.”

The door slams open just as Harry’s getting the plates set, and Harry hears Nick’s voice, impossibly fond, call out, “Harry, I’m home!”

She grins, and doesn’t bother to hide it.


End file.
